


There Aren't Enough Stars

by RussianEmpress



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2320571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianEmpress/pseuds/RussianEmpress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post a comment with a prompt, pairing, rating, whatever you want. And I will write it up for you. This is for a writing challenge I'm apart of- write everyday, all day. First Chapter Up!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Post a prompt and I'll write something up for you! Have at it!


	2. Faithful (Drift x Ratchet/ Sad Drift x Jerk Rodimus mentions)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty!! This one is for LoveDrift! I’ve always loved the age gap between Ratchet and Drift. Whelp, I hope I did the prompt some justice. Sorry it took so long to post, but I’m a sucker for backstory and plot. 
> 
> Let’s just say this takes place after Ratchet goes out to search for Drift (cause I know they announced the new comic arc where Ratchet and Drift are going to have awesome samurai and doctor space adventures!) and that the Brainstorm killswitch doesn’t happen? Cause I’m sure whatever Roberts has cooked up for #34, we’re going to be in for a big ride. And thus things are going to pan out veeeery differently. I can’t wait!!  
> Here we go! 
> 
> Prompt: Drift and Ratchet. Fluffy reunion hurt/comfort.

Faithful

It was starting to become very common to have someone inside his medbay who wasn't an official medical officer. So common, that Ratchet had become anticipating his work to interrupted around the same time everyday by one particular bot that was perfectly functional. Today was no exception it seemed, but to his slight annoyance (and even lesser feeling of pride that he was indeed correct, once again,) Ratchet punched in his last few data entries into the daily medical journal and turned his attention to his daily visitor. The pleasantly smiling samurai Autobot spotted the doctor in his usual corner and with a few energized bounces in his stride, waltzed up to Ratchet.

"Greeting Ratchet." Smoothly and evenly spoken, Drift gently and joyfully greeted his long time fellow comrade and friend. Hearing Ratchet sigh just for the sake of sighing, a human trait he picked up decades ago, he lolled his head over to the white armored mech and returned the hello. Nowhere near as joyful, but pleasantly none the less.

"Welcome _back_ Drift. So good to see you. Again."

Whatever hints Ratchet was trying to ever-so-subtly drop went right over Drift’s smiling head. Drift instead took it that perhaps Ratchet was actually glad to see him over and over again. Maybe even looking forward to seeing him.

"It is always a pleasure to see you as well my friend. And how goes your work cycle?" He asked, sounding all too genuinely interested in what actually might have happened in the past few cycles when he asked last time…and the time before that, and the time before that.

"Oh! And a hardy and healthy greetings to you as well First Aid how are you?."

Ratchet snuck a peek at First Aid, who was working quietly on his own daily recordings a stone throw away from his desk. First Aid just lifted his visored helm up, gave a quick wave and went back to typing. By the sounds of the sudden instantaneously tapping of his metallic digits on the keyboard, Ratchet knew he wasn’t even typing anything legitimately. Just a show for Drift that Chief Medical Officer-in-training was far too busy to be caught up in mindless, and very repetitive, chatter…again.

Ratchet stared at the top of First Aid’s bright red helmet. Ratchet couldn’t help it; he glared quietly. Just a few days ago First Aid approached him, carefully, seriously. Like the well-practiced professional doctor he was, with the sorrow of bad news on the tip of his tongue, he approached Ratchet, mentally steeling himself with what he wanted to say. Ratchet wasn't a patient and grew incredibly aggravated as First Aid tipped toed around whatever was on his mind. "You either spill whatever it is you have to say, First Aid, or you’re going get back to work and not getting back up until the next cycle. Pick one."

First Aid smoothed the back of his neck with a nervous hand and then looked at the polished floors. After studying them long enough, his both his feet and Ratchet’s for long enough he asked,

"You would tell me if Drift was damaged, right? Is he was really sick or dying, wouldn’t you? I know you might not want to let me know, for the sake of novelty or you just want to keep this a private thing with your friend. I get it. I do. No, really. But I’m an equal here right? No secrets? Sorry, just, well, he’s been in here everyday. Ever since he came back…Is something so wrong you don’t even want to share it with me? Or have you just decided not tell Drift yet. Or-"

Ratchet held up his hand and First Aid stopped babbling. To his credit, Ratchet wasn’t one to start laughing loudly at misunderstandings, but he supposed he couldn’t hold back the pinch of a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

"It would seem like something was severely malfunctioning with Drift, wouldn’t it, with how often he’s been waltzing in here. No, First Aid, he’s fine. Slightly annoying and for some reason always hanging around medbay, but i assure you, he’s fine."

First Aid never felt like he needed to press the issue and let it drop. He nodded at his superior and trusted himself to trust Ratchet that the older medic would never keep information withheld from him. Ratchet understood it might be paranoia creeping up on First Aid, after spending g so many years with Pharma, who must have head secrets stashed away in ever nook and cranny of that out skirt medical station. Pharma, who must have always snuck away for days on end with no contact or kept hundreds if not thousands of files from the younger medical bot.

Now First Aid just pretended to type away at his station and Ratchet shook his head at him. He turned his attention back to drift, who was beaming back down at him. Ratchet got up and spared First Aid the embarrassment of having to leave his own medbay awkwardly while fake working, as the old medic crossed his arms and nudges Drift with an elbow.

“How about a drink? Feels like a great time for a break." Ratchet asked kindly but then raised an eyebrow ridge when Drift looked rather upset at the suggestion, rather than over joyed by it. Drift smiled quickly faltered but was back again and he shrugged causally.

"I actually just came from there. Perhaps a calm and zealous walk would rejuvenate your fatigue? Much better than putting whatever Swerve is mixing up in you, right? You’ll feel much better afterward, I guarantee it."

Ratchets raised suspicious eyebrow stayed firmly in place, as did his crossed arms. He gave Drift a lazy look up and down and shrugged one of his own shoulders.

"Riiiiight. Fine. Walk it is." he followed Drift out who pivoted on his heel and strutted out, his mood picking up again. "Hold down the fort, First Aid."

Ratchet heard the typing come to a dead halt as soon as he reached the sliding doors.

 

///

 

With one hand on the hilt of his sword at his hip, Drift and Ratchet made their way down long stretches of hallway in, what Drift would have called harmonious silence.

Ratchet really would rather have enjoyed sitting in a dark corner at the bar with a hard shot of nightmare fuel, but a walk allowed him to stretch out his restless joints. They walked, Ratchet’s heavy peds hitting the floor in a rhythmic beat, Drift lightly keeping step at his side. Ratchet rotated one arm up and over. Then the other, rubbing his elbow joint firmly once or twice and flexing his fingers over and over. He gave his neck a hard turn to the left, then right, and finally gave his wrists a satisfying whirl to and fore.

"So. This is indeed a peaceful and....whatever else you said-"

"Zealous! It means to be in a state of peace and ease."

"Yeaaha. That. It’s a nice walk, Drift. So if that’s the case, why are you still upset?"

Drift didn’t falter in his stride nor did he stumble over his words when ratchet asked him suddenly what was the matter.

"Oh I am quite well, thank you. It’s a shame you don’t take auras seriously, if you could see mine right now it would be a very joyous pale yellow i think, tranquil blue even. "

Ratchet frowned at Drift’s immature behavior. He had thought after all this time he spent alone in the universe after being banished by Rodimus, he would have grown up a little. After everything he had gone through and now to be back among the stillness of the chaos, this strange aftermath everyone was experiencing. It was like Drift was going through the motions. Ratchet had seen him, and Drift was very poor at hiding it. Drift was almost parallel with Chromedome when he became so isolated in his sorrow for all those months after Rewind was lost to him. To all of them. How Chromedome wouldn’t come out of his habsuite for weeks. All Ratchet ever heard coming from behind the door was muffled audio, that after some time, Ratchet pieced together it was actually the same recording over and over. More than once the doctor had to make his presence known and forcefully told Chromedome he couldn’t just waste away and needed to refuel, Rodimus' and Ratchet’s orders. Rung did his best to council him, but for someone who literally shut off his audio receptors whenever the softly spoken psychiatrist tried to speak, it started to become futile. As Ratchet thought about it, something did bring Chromedome around to showing his masked face around meetings and the bar. And that something happened to be a someone. Brainstorm. And if anyone was going to get Drift to open it, to come around again, Ratchet decided upon himself it had to be him.

Drift however, for reasons that could not be explained, was acting the opposite of he would have been, or at least that’s what Rung’s text books would have told you. Instead of claming up and avoiding everyone, Drift seemed to be shouting from the rooftops that he was absolutely fine and everything was just so....zealous. It looked like Drift wasn’t going to drop the act anytime soon either the more Ratchet saw him from day to day.

"Look Drift, it doesn’t take a bot with Preceptor’s level of intelligence to come to then conclusion something is wrong. I also may not have ten million years of phytriatric experience under my belt, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see that you’re upset. I’m not bind. "

 

Ratchet reached for Drift’s shoulder when the younger bot thought if he just kept walking, Ratchet of all bots, would just drop it.

"I know you." he said gruffly. "What is it?"

Drift looked Ratchet head one, optics so blue at times, Ratchet worried often wither drift had decided to take something that must have enhanced their intensity as a side effect. Or maybe he just hadn’t seen those pair of optics in so long he missed just how brightly they glowed when he was near the swordsmen.

Drifted dropped the dopy smile. His face plates resetting themselves to their neutral state, and then the sadness started to creep into his features. Which Ratchet was honestly thankful for. He was starting to think he was going to have to punch him in the face to get rid of that stupid fake grin. Ratchet’s hand tightened on Drift’s shoulder and he tried to bring him closer. Urging him to tell him why all these sudden appearance at the medbay where happening day to day. Why he was hearing reports of Drift constantly leaving meetings with the other officers seconds after they were over with. Or that very ugly rumor that Drift was starting to prefer the company of Megatron rather than Rodimus Prime, bolting whenever the headstrong captain entered the bridge or control room. ....or the bar.

Ratchet squinted at Drift. "This has to do with Rodimus doesn’t it. Rodimus is at the bar, isn’t he?"

Lord, no wonder Rung was a physiatrist for so long. The job seemed to be incredibly easy. The Nanosecond Rodimus' name left Ratchet’s vocals, he felt Drift stiffen under his touch, an almost unnoticeable shake of Drift’s armor. His optics dimmed in a silly bout of anger, replaced by a quick off hand upset stare and then disappeared.

Ready to confess, Drift opened his own mouth to say something, the words ready to pour out like a freshly found pool of energon in the mines. He leaned in into Ratchet a little more, but quickly backed away and ripped away from his tight grip when Sunstreaker and Inferno rounded a corner of the hallway and walked past their fellow crew mates. The other two didn’t even spare them a glance as they kept going, Sunstreaker seeming to have gotten Inferno into a long winded rant about some Earth racing broadcast that he thought was actually more interesting to watch than those on Cybertron…because sometimes the humans caught on fire as well.

"Not here." Drift said quickly, under his breath and then quickly plastered on that fake smile. "That was a wonderful walk Ratchet. Thank you for allowing me to accompany it with you." He bowed in his silly manner of respect, a small dip of his head and upper chest, and went forward, alone. Ratchet watched him go and was amazed how easily he could spot that fake bounce in his step as he continued on his way, getting further and further away from Ratchet.

To no one, Ratchet sighed and turned back, making his way down back to his medbay. Then before he turned down the right hallway, he went the opposite direction and made a b-line towards Swerve’s.

Ten greeted Ratchet in its deep monotone voice with his usual, “ten”, and the medical chief walked casually up to the bar. As he looked over the rest of the seats, just as he guessed correctly, Rodimus, alongside Ultra Magnus, sat in the center of the room. The young Prime was cheerfully talking about something g or other, a few empty glasses of high grade on the table near him. Magnus only seemed to nod and added very little conversation from the looks of it. His large hands holding tightly onto a glass that must have been the lowest grade energon swerve had to offer, if not just simple glass of H20.

A soft clink was heard in Ratchet’s audios before an onslaught of talking from Swerve interrupted the old bots causal spying. The little bartender already knew what Ratchet liked when it came to his "afternoon cap" and poured him his drink without being asked. Ratchet’s dull green reflection from a top his glass stared back when he cut off Swerve’s fascinating story about something he found about Rewind that Tailgate told him, or something or other.

"How long has who been sittin' where?" Swerve asked when Ratchet so rudely stopped him in the middle of his amazing story that was totally going somewhere. Ratchet picked up his glass and threw the drink down his throat in one smooth motion. Then he jabbed a red thumb at his Captain’s table.

"Roddy and Mags?" Placing a thoughtful three fingered hand under his chin as if he was on the verge of solving one of the most complex questions ever asked, Swerve hummed deeply to himself trying to remember.

" Hhhhmmmmmmmmmm. I’m gonna say, two or three hours now. Like usual."

"Usual? Are you calling Rodimus a regular now?"

 

Swerve laughed. "Trailercutter was a regular. Well a regular until fraeakin' Mr.-Lets-Take-Away- Swerve’s-Means-Of-Early-Retirement decided to break his energon intake. Nah, since Megatron did his little buzz kill magical switch on 'Cutters’ intake, folks haven’t been in here too repeatedly, well in one day, you know how it is. Cause of the paranoia they might get too drunk for big bad Megs' liking and he’ll come after them too. Like some boogieman who’s soul purpose is to destroy fun. But if you ask me-“

Ratchet pushed off Swerve’s bar ledge, his empty glass left behind on the clean counter top and made his way over to Rodimus. He knew he was glaring, and he tried to ease the tension his facials circuits, but Lord help him, whenever Rodimus Prime came into his sights he just couldn’t help it. Like it was some hardwired normal reaction now to seeing the pompous young Autobot, Captain or not. Magnus was the first to acknowledge him as he drew near.

 

“Ratchet.” Ultra Magnus simply stated. Whether it was a greeting, an observation, a que for Rodimus to stop drinking, or a blunt labeling of what Autobot unit was in Swerve’s bar, it was incredibly hard to decipher. Ratchet didn’t care which one it was. Rodimus was slouched over the table slightly, seemingly very interested at what was below him. Ratchet noticed the deep carvings in the table top under his arm, and like a child trying to cover up his vandalism, adding a quick pleasant smile and turned up optics; he placed his gold platted hand over his work. (How Magnus was just sitting there and allowing him to do so was beyond his understanding. But again, Ratchet didn’t have the energy to spare to care.)

“How goes it, Doc.” Ratchet was at least slightly pleased to hear that Rodimus gave up on greeting him with some old and aggravating turn of phrase they used on Earth- What’s up, Doc. That always seemed to get underneath Ratchet’s platting and rubbed him the wrong way. This was slightly more tolerable. And anything slightly more tolerable from Rodimus was always a small blessing.

One thing he shared in common with Ultra Magnus was his inability to tip toe around a subject. Or rather he chose not to. After millions of years of giving out bad news along with some good, being subtle wasn’t one of the best traits.

“Where’s your second-in-command?” That may have been a little blunt, even for Ratchet, but he made sure to sound hard on each word of the title. Rodimus stared at him for an entirely. Maybe that was contempt that passed by the young Prime’s face, a steeling up of what must have been an enjoyable slight drunk buzz. Leave it to Ratchet to sober him up instantly with those three magical words. Magnus may have felt it as well. The air had changed in the easy going mood and was now borderline threatening.

Rodimus, always so keen and quick to play anything off, looked around the bar in front of him, then tilted in his chair to look behind him. He shrugged.

“Hm, well looks like to me, and I may be wrong, but then again I’m not a trained scout or anything, but looks to me like he’s not in this particular bar. At this particular moment. Particularly at this table. Right Magnus?”

The Duly Appointed Enforcer Officer of the Tyrest Accord nodded. “Drift is currently not at this establishment, Ratchet. Do you require him at this time? I will contact him for you.”

The much larger mech reached for his commlink but Ratchet held up his hand. “No need Magnus. In fact, why don’t you give him a call for me, Rodimus. “

Rodimus took a quick sip of his drink and eyed Ratchet’s own commlink on his arm. “Yours broken, Doc? Might want to get that fixed.”

Magnus lifted his arm again to save Ratchet the trouble of dealing with Rodimu’s pandering, but Ratchet’s shot his hand out and grabbed Mangus’ wrist.

“Really. No need. Just seems I’ve been seeing less and less of Drift by your side, is all.” Ratchet noticed out of the corner of his eye that Magnus’ seemed to have frowned slightly more. Again, it was very hard to read the law enforcer, but something told Ratchet he wasn’t frowning from being grabbed at.

“Used to be I couldn’t get an answer out of one of you without the other finishing the thought. And now, he’s nowhere even near you.”

Rodimus slammed down the rest of his drink and flicked the glass away from him.

“What’s your point.” Rodimus spat out hotly. “He’s not here. Big deal. If you want him, call him. I’m not his caretaker.” It was evident that for whatever reason Drift was avoiding Rodimus, Rodimus seemed to also be scorned in all this. As if it was a silly breakup in a couple and one wouldn’t talk to the other until someone apologies. Even though both claimed the other has to apologies first. It was ridicules and frustrated Ratchet to no end. Rodimus and Drift both had to stop acting like children.  

“You’re right, you’re not his caretaker, but you are his Captain. And a Captain that doesn’t know where his second-in-command is makes for a shotty Captain.” Insulting Rodimus’ performance as a Captain was always the correct button to smash if anyone wanted to get a rise out of him. He was about to bark back at his Medical Chief but Magnus “ahemed” him back to sit back down.

Ratchet turned sharply, not about to get into a pointless shouting match with Rodimus. He honestly wasn’t planning on coming in here and telling Rodimus off either. Ten bid him farewell in his mono-numeric way, and Ratchet darted towards Drift’s quarters. 

 

He pressed the entrance call button at the side panel and was left standing there with it being unanswered. He called Drift’s name and used his metallic knuckles to wrap on the door. Still no answer. Ratchet was convinced that Drift just wasn’t there. Stepping away from the door, Ratchet considered going out and looking for the wandering wayward Autobot, but thought better. He wasn’t going to go searching for him like some worried and fussing nanny. 

 

Ratchet went back to his medbay. It was a good thing he did because Drift sat on the edge of an examination table, a vile of yellow thick liquid in his hand. He turned the glass tube in his slender fingers over and over, watching the air bubble in the tube race to each end, back and forth. Ratchet noticed that Drift didn’t look up when he walked in through the sliding doors, and then he noticed First Aid was nowhere to be seen. 

 

"I told First Aid that Tailgate’s cybercrosis was kicking in again and he ran out of here." Ratchet disapproved of that severely. 

 

"Sorry, I didn’t know how else we could talk." 

 

Ratchet reached him and took the bottle from his hands, placing it down on the table with a soft clink,

 

"And why didn’t you just go to your hab suite?"

 

Drift looked down at his feet sheepishly. "Honestly...I think its bugged." Ratchet saw that drift may been embarrassed to admit it, but he sounded like he truly think that. 

 

"And since when did you start taking live lessons from Red Alert?" 

 

"Because I’ve already found one camera in there. I wouldn’t put it past anyone to try again." 

 

Drift explained how he still felt like a lot of Autobots were watching him from behind every corner, or talking about him behind closed doors. How even though after Rodimus came clean for what he had done, people thought he was just covering for the ex- Decepticon. Conspiracy theories. Whispers in the dark. The Lost Light Editorial. Apparently even a camera that was very poorly hidden. Even after how Rodimus announced loudly how glad he was to have drift back. "We can’t find the Knights without you, Drift! I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side when we do." 

 

Ratchet shook his head. That bastard just wouldn’t admit how wrong he was even to Drift, one of his closest and most loyal friend and comrade. Rodimus thought with a quick sorry and an arm around the shoulders, a few pats on the back, and everything would be swept under the rug. Maybe Drift was too quick to forgive. Maybe he was just all too eager to BE at Rodimus’ side once more. Ratchet saw it in his face when Drift hoped everything might actually go back to normal, to set forth back on this insane quest and find the Knights of Cybertron.

 

But whatever strange tension must have been growing between the Captain and his second, well, it brought Drift to the medbay every day around the same time. And its what brought Drift to the examination table, sitting there sadly.  

 

"I get it. So you and Rodimus are clearly on shaky grounds right now. Not every little thing is falling back into place? Drift," Ratchet placed both his hands on Drift’s shoulder sternly, looking down at him with a little bit of pity. Drift cast his gaze to the side, watching the wall intently. 

 

"Rodimus let you take the fall. A very, very, veeeery steep fall. And he took full advantage of your loyalty and faith in him. He knew you would take the dive with grace and keep your God dammed mouth shut. He knew he was off the hook once you agreed to it."

 

"But" 

 

"He was also in panic mode, Drift. You don’t become a hero of Cybertron where they praise your name like they do for Optimus Prime when you turn tail and let your second in command take the fall for harvesting one of the most dangerous murders on your ship. It’s almost Decept- "

 

"Don’t say it." Drift shot him a cold stare. He stood up, Ratchet’s hold on him fell to the side and they stared at each other, noses almost touching. Drift’s hands unconsciously wrapped themselves around his sword in a fierce grip.

 

"Don’t you dare call him a Decepticon. That’s treason." 

 

Ratchet literally rolled his eyes and stepped away from the suddenly flustered warrior. 

 

"Oh for crying out loud, Drift. Listen, kiddo," he said that word with such easy arrogance, Drift suddenly remember just how mu h longer Ratchet had been at war. Just how much longer he had been an Autobot. Just how stupid Drift suddenly felt for having said that stupid word- treason. But ratchet seemed go play it off with good graces. He wasn’t about to let that grind his gears, of all things. Not after all went through these past few millennia.

 

"I know you see Rodimus as some kind of gold dipped action figure hero who’s in the verge of finding the holy and mysterious Knights of Cybertron and bring back the golden era to our home, but wake up. He abandoned you. Very quickly I might add. And where is he now? Drinking it up with Ultra Magnus because he doesn’t want to feel the shame and guilt he does when he's near you."

 

"But I have forgiven him! I have done nothing but follow his orders and comply. I did what I had to. For him! For the rest of the crew! For Cybertron! Rodimus will find the knights. He has to. I have all my faith in him…I have to." 

 

 

So there was the root of the problem. Ratchet could only imagine that these sort of little dramas could only be cooked up by two of the most head strong and youngest of the crew. Drift wasn’t upset that Rodimus and him were growing distant, he was shaken up by the fact he may be losing his faith in his beloved Captain. And by putting distance between them, it seemed Drift was hoping to have his faith restored somehow. He hoped that with every new day, his sacrifice for being banished wasn’t in vain, and Rodimus was one step closer to fulfilling the quest. 

 

"Your faith isn’t being rewarded." Ratchet leaned back against the tables edge and crossed his arms again. Drift next to him, heaved himself to sit down hard, the metal on metal  bang rattling the air around them. This was why Ratchet stopped believing in anything all those eons ago. Maybe he believed there was a Primus, or something g out there at one point. But with the bloodstained grounds of Cybertron ,and then earth, and even in the vast cosmos of space, his faith also dwindled.

 

Slowly at first, like that of a data pad. It glowed brightly and then eventually it would dim and then in the end it would die, regardless if it believed in anything with all his spark. And yet here they were. So many more months into this madness and no new clues had popped up. No new leads and no direction as the Lost Light kept sailing into the dark and endless ink of the universe and brightly scattered stars. 

 

"I seek no reward. I just...feel...there should be..." Drifts hands fumbled for the right word. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted at this point. Drift was never has boastful and nowhere near as pretentious as Rodimus, but he too sought approval. For all his actions, to have someone to offer him a drink as thanks for a job well done. He wasn’t aiming to become a recognized hero, but perhaps getting a little nod his way when the real hero couldn’t have gotten to his goal without his help.

 

Well Ratchet thought that was perfectly fair. There were some bots that took these sorts of feelings of being unrecognized to some extremes. Ratchet shivered inwardly when Starscream crossed his mind. That would be a perfect example of going to the far extremes to being acknowledged, but would it kill Rodimus to thank Drift for his bold actions instead of just throwing a "I’m so sorry" card in his direction when no one was looking? 

 

Ratchet uncrossed his arms and placed one arm on Drift’s hunched over shoulders. He brought him close to his side and gripped him tight. Drift allowed himself to be pulled in and looked up at Ratchet’s age worn face. 

 

"What you did had to be one of the most selfless acts anyone here on this tug boat has ever done. Stupid, incredibly so. I can’t believe I just stood there and let you go like that." His arm tightened around Drift, remembering how he slipped through his fingers as he boarded his private ship to blast off into the unknown, tossed out to fend for himself on behalf of Rodimus’ favor.  

 

"But selfless. Optimus Prime level of stupid selflessness."

 

Drift heard the words and let them sink in. A million shining Rodimus Gold Stars would never compare to what Ratchet just said to him. To who he just compared him to. With the slight tilt of his frame, Drift let his head lay down on Ratchet’s chest, closing whatever small gap was left between them. 

 

"Thank you. Thank you for that Ratchet." 

 

Ratchet “hurm”ed a gruff response and just nodded. He was glad that whatever his words were worth, they made drift feel a little better, slightly acknowledged. 

 

"I missed you terribly, you know." Drift said freely in the empty medbay. 

 

"I truly missed Rodimus in my own way, of course."

 

A soft "Mmmhmm" came from the Medical Officer.

 

"But it was you I missed so frequently. I don’t know how many times I had prayed that I would turn around and find you standing there by my side." 

 

"This stupid ship just wasn’t the same without you either, kid." 

 

Ratchet’s jaw tightened when Drifts lips grazed the side of his neck, tilting his head away from Drift sudden affection. Not to be deterred, Drift stood up from the safety of Ratchet’s nook at his side and faced him, even pushing him back down to sit before him. The doctor stared up at Drift, whose optics had dimmed. 

 

"Thank you." Drift said again. He pressed his nose into the crest of ratchets helmet and let his nimble fingers travel up his arms, memorizing what he could, where Ratchet’s armor dipped and curved. And when his hands cupped Ratchet's face, he bent down and placed his lips gently against Ratchet’s. Ratchet just sat there and when Drift parted away from him and walked out of the medbay, Ratchet saw a slip of a smirk on the other warrior’s face. A genuine half smile rather than the forced grin he had been wearing for weeks on end. 

 

Sitting there, alone in his medbay, Ratchet thought that maybe he wouldn’t mind it so much if Drift made his daily visits anymore.

 

 

///

 

Epilogue

 

"For the millionth time, IM FINE! I’M FINE!!" 

 

"Cybercrosis is a tricky thing, Tailgate! It’s never been cured before. Well, before you. Who knows how it works! Now please stop struggling and let me examine you. It won’t take my a moment.”

 

First Aid ran through the medbay doors, dragging a resisting Tailgate by the arm with him. Ratchet watched First Aid try to pick up Tailgate awkwardly, as the minibot kicked and demanded to be let go. Tailgate moaned and groaned at the medic that he was wasting his precious movie viewing time and he was going to miss the big amazing plot twist. 

 

Ratchet was about to intervene when Whirl, of all bots, poked his head in still open door. His one yellow optic glowed brightly and a clawed hand waved dismissingly as he called out to Tailgate. 

 

"Turns out the sister's mother really WAS the ghost! That was the most amazing movie plot twist surprise I have ever seen in my ten million year old life and it never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever be replicated!"

 

Whirl disappeared and Tailgate went limp against First Aid, caught up in his overwhelming disappointment and movie-watching-goodness-ruined anguish. Whirl shot his head back as the doors were sliding closed.

 

"Ever!" He cackled and ran of as the door shut.

 

Tailgate cried out and gave First Aid such a swift kick in the shine, that First Aid actually yelped out in pain and let go of Tailgate. Ratchet shut his mouth as a fuming Tailgate marched out of the medbay, muttering to himself how unfair his life was.

 

The End.  


End file.
